Harry Potter and the Odious Odor
by Thranx
Summary: Ok, so you've read enough Severitis fanfic that you have the basic storyline memorized...but if the moon really is made of cheese, then what is that strange smell that Hogwarts can't eliminate? And which house is it coming from? 6th-year parody, PostOotP
1. Default Chapter

Harry Potter and the Odious Odor

By: **Thranx**

Dedicated to **CastleRock, for providing my life with much needed humor**

Summary: All you need to know is that this is an anti-Severitis fanfic.

Rating: PG-13 (just to be safe) for language and, er…suggestive comments

*************************************************************************************

"Wow, Harry!" Don exclaimed when Harry flew into the Fat Hall upon his spanking new Firebolt 28493.453 at the end of the Sorting Ceremony.  "You grew out your hair."

Indeed, the narrow-minded Donald Weasley (so named because his animagus form was a duck) had managed to note one of the many changes that took place over the summer for the Boy Who Lived To Die Again In A Later Book After Much Teenage Angst.  Harry shook out his jet black hair, which now cascaded down to his shoulders, and lit up a cigarette.  He sat down on top of the table so the audience could see him better.

"Will you move!" Hermione snapped, who predictably had her nose buried so deep in a book that it stuck out through a gap in the spine.

"How was summer?" Don asked.

Harry shrugged.  "Oh, the typical yarn.  My uncle made me fry the bacon twenty times in a row trying to get the scene right for the first movie.  But then he started speaking backwards in Spanish; I tried throwing holy water on him but it gave him hives, so I pushed him out of the window instead.  My Aunt Petunia beat me and then locked me in a cabinet in the bathroom.  It was smelly, but nice."  

But of course no one listened, because though he was the main character, he was a tragic hero.  It was expected then that his life be a bit…tragic.

"Aren't you going to ask my why I'm late to the Sorting Ceremony?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.

"Because you're the main character, why else?" Hermione retorted.

"Oh, right.  Well, aren't you at least going to ask me why I look different?" he persisted, while winking across the table at Gred and Forge, who the author dragged back to Hogwarts to finish their seventh year merely for comic relief.

Neville suddenly sat up straight and reached a pudgy hand into his pants.  "Bloody hell!  I've lost my underwear again!  Gran will kill me – she knitted them herself out of Burmese wool."  He looked around desperately for help, but as he was unimportant to the plot, everyone ignored him.

Hermione managed to free her nose, leaving a trail of snot over the pages of her book.  "Fine Harry, why – my, you _have_ changed, haven't you?"

She happened to be right.  The author was sick of Harry wearing raggedy jeans and thus spontaneous clothed him in a green shirt and black leather pants.  "How have I changed?"

"Well, your skin has grown sallower.  And your expression in somewhere between a disdainful sneer and an angry snarl.  And your nose is suddenly elongated and rather hooked.  And apparently you don't need your glasses anymore, and without them your eyes look more intense and menacing.  And you're wearing a baseball cap that says 'Harry Snape' with tiny letters underneath saying '49.9% Slytherin.'"

"Whoops, you weren't supposed to see that."  He whisked off the cap and stuffed it down the front of his pants, leaving a notable bulge.

Hermione wrinkled her brow.  "You almost…look like someone…but I can't think _who…"_

Harry rolled his eyes.  "I'll give you another clue."  He pulled a 14x16 portrait out of his booksack.  In the frame were three people: Lily Evans, cuddled up next to Severus Snape and…

"Mundungus Fletcher?" Don gasped.

"Oh, he just sort of wandered in at the wrong time.  But look, Lily Evans and Snape used to be married," Harry explained.

Don was puzzled at the picture.  "Why'd she marry _that greasy git?"_

Harry's eyes flashed.  Then stopped.  Then flashed again.

"What does that mean?" Don asked, pointing to Harry's eyes.

"It means a train's coming."

"Oh."

Sure enough, a train chose that moment to pass right outside the Fat Hall.  They were forced to sit and wait until the deafening roar retreated into the night.

"Getting back to our discussion," Harry started awkwardly.

"Wait, don't tell me," Hermione said.  "Lily Evans and Snape were married…and you look different…  Oh, Harry, I'm almost _positive_ it means something, but I don't know what!"

Harry sighed.  He pulled out his birth certificate and taped it to the front of his shirt with duct tape.  "Ok, ok, try again.  Now what's different?"

Hermione studied him.  "Well…you have hairy purple fungus growing out of your ears, but I didn't think it was polite to mention it in civilized conversation."

He reached up to feel his ears.  "Oh shit."

"And I see that you grew 8.3 inches, shrank 20, grew 18, shrank 5, and then grew two tenths of an inch more."

Don gaped at her.  Actually, if you must know, his jaw had stayed open the whole time because that look of bewilderment is a default setting for his face.  "How did you know that?" he wondered.

"Don!  You would know that too if you had read my list of five hundred books on all topics from developmental psychology to biochemistry to statistics to early renaissance music, and if you have read all of J. K. Rowling's wonderful books, including the sixth one, Harry Potter and the Noxious Odor, where it clearly states his strange grow spurts starting in the third line of the second paragraph on the tenth page.  Why does no one here read?  What's wrong with you people?  There's no point to life!"  She ran across the hall and flung herself out the window.

They were silent for all of two seconds before continuing.  "So Don, you guess now."

"Um, I don't know."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" a voice across the room exploded.  Up until that moment, the entire crowded hall had remained in silent contemplation, minding their own business until the author gave them lines and actions.  Some of them had been staring at the steaming food in front of them, unable to even lift their arm and fill their plates until they were given leave to do so.  But Snape was breaking the rule of not interrupting the author's careful contrived scene but shouting across the hall, "I'm his father!"

The entire hall was silent.  They could hear a toilet flush someone in the castle.  The pipes went clank-clank.  Clank-clank.  Clank-clank.  Whoosh!  And then it was silent.

Getting bored with the dramatic pause, the majority of the hall started stuffing their mouths with food and murmuring amongst themselves.  But they became quiet instantly when they realized Harry had to had a monologue first.  He stood up on the table, brushing dirt from his pants into Ginny's soup.  She sniffed indignantly.

"Yes, you have heard him right.  Due to a complicated spell that exists nowhere outside of the author's deranged mind, I am actually Severus Snape's son, charmed for sixteen years to look like James Potter.  In fact, because of this spell, the genetic material from several people was combined, so I have several fathers: Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Seamus Finnigan, and Minerva McGonagall."

"Professor McGonagall is a woman!" Draco Malfoy shouted angrily.

Harry was enraged that his lines had been interrupted.  "That's what you think," he retorted.  Draco turned green and started rinsing out his mouth and retching simultaneously.  Professor McGonagall looked apologetic and mouthed "Call you later?" across the room to the shocked Slytherin.  Draco reached into his pocket and used a huge pair of gray wool grandma panties to wipe his nose upon.  The initials N.F.L. were embroidered on the elastic at the top.  Neville's eyes widened and he began to make bitter slashing motions with the butter knife in his hand, but he remained silent.

"Wow!  So Lily Evans managed to incorporate all their genetic material into one being?" Ginny exclaimed.  "Your mother rocks."

Harry blushed.  He realized he looked rather cute when he did, so he blushed again.

"Oh, stop it, you," Draco murmured fondly.

"Actually, Lily Evans isn't my mother."

"Then who is?" Ginny asked.

Harry stood and pointed towards the staff table.  "Albus Dumbledore!"

Professor Dumbledore, clothes in lime green robes and orange sunglasses that were tangled in his dreadlocks, stood and gushed, "My baby!  Come to momma!"

Don shook his head.  "I'm so confused."

The crowd started to leave, thinking the chapter was over.  They wanted to get as much sleep as possible before seeing what other horrors the author had in store for them.  "Wait, there's more!" Harry shrieked.  They obediently sat down.  "I have something to confess.  I'm a hermaphrodite."

"Aren't we all?" a first-year Ravenclaw whispered.

"And Voldemort is my son!"

There was a loud crash as Hermione climbed back through the window, dragging several branches with her, and collapsed onto the floor.  She had leaves in her hair and dirt on her face.  She had also, unfortunately stepped in some Threstral manure.  "Sorry, everybody, I forgot that the Fat Hall was ground level.  Although it is rather silly of me, because Hogwarts, A History distinctly says so on page 198 on line 8 of the 14th paragraph."  She looked around as she pulled an earthworm out of her hair and ate it.  "So what'd I miss?"

[A/N: This is why I shouldn't be allowed to write humor.  This is why I stick to dismal, depressing stories full of darkness and despair.  Geez, I'm not good at this whole funniness thing.]


	2. A plot

[A/N: Well, after the smashing success of the first chapter-]

"Ahem!"  Hermione cleared her throat.  "May I speak?"

[Um, I haven't finished introducing the chapter yet]

"Don't be ridiculous," she said.  She pulled a wand out from the tangles of her hair and gave it a wave: the Fat Hall came into view.  "It's really not that complicated.  We're at breakfast, school is starting, end of story."

[But I haven't done my author's note yet!]

She rolled her eyes.  "Nobody actually reads those!  They're always long and obnoxious and boring.  Why don't you just jump straight into the story?"

[I have things to say]

"Like what?"

[Well, er...]

"Exactly.  Let's get on to important business, namely, how many OWLs I managed to pass and why I'm the smartest person here."  

She suddenly sprouted acne across her forehead.

"Oh, I see, you want to play dirty!  Well, look here, author-person, you don't even have a plot yet, and therefore _your story sucks_!"

[Does not!]

She suddenly grew warts on her nose.

"Stop being so childish.  I'm trying to be serious here.  How can you have a story without a plot?"

[Well, I was planning on asking the reviewers where they thought I should go with this...]

"Oh, that's rich, let someone else think up the ideas for you?"

[I wouldn't put it that way...]

"What if nobody reviews?"

[Damn...I hadn't thought of that.]

"Hermione, leave her alone," Don said, stuffing bacon into his mouth as he spoke.

"Why should you care?  One, you're not the main character, Donald Weasley; two, you're happy as long as the author gives you plenty of food to eat."

"What's wrong with that?"  He stuffed a baby pig into his mouth and spit it back out when he realized it hadn't been cooked yet.  He sniffed it and then ate it anyway.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak when a bird suddenly dove in.  She managed to get it out after several minutes, but not after it had defecated.  Twice.  "Now you're just being plain rude!  What kind of author treats her characters so abhorrently?  There's nothing you can do to me to bring me down to your lowly level."

Hermione suddenly grew large breasts.  The entire male population of the hall spent the rest of breakfast trying to look down her shirt.  She was so enraged that she didn't even have time to read the five books she had set aside for that morning.  "Noooo!!!" she shrieked in despair.

[Learning not to mess with me, are you?]

"Okay, okay, you can have your author's notes, just put me back the way I was!"

Don reached a hand under the table and tried to feel up her legs.

"Stop that!"  She slapped his hand away.

"I'm a Weasley, I can do what I want.  It's in cannon that we secretly have the hots for each other anyway.  Besides, I'm a major supporting character; you can't do anything to me!"

An evil glint formed in Hermione eyes.

It took Hogwarts two days to find his body once Hermione was done, which was so mangled that even Buckbeak (who lived underneath Dumbledore's turban) wouldn't eat him.  

"What'd'ya do that for?" Harry demanded.  "Now we have to have auditions to find another Donald.  It'll take at least a week."

"This story is going to hell," Hermione commented bitterly.  "But I guess we're not going to get anywhere until _she_ has her author's notes."

[Okay, okay, I'll make it short.  Questions abound at Hogwarts: does the title actually mean anything, is there even a plot to this derangement, and what kind of undies does Snape wear?  Also, watch out for Moulin Rouge cross-over.  I present....chapter two!]

2. A plot

"Oh that's an original title," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"So Hermione," Harry said.  "I was lying there in bed last night and I was thinking..."

"What about?"

"Sheep."

"Oh."

"And then I masturbated."

"Hmm."

"But then I got to thinking...we should find something to do this year that takes up all our time and ends up saving the school and gives Gryffindor ass-loads of points."  He shook back his long, shiny mane of black hair and reached up to adjust his glasses...only to realize that the author had taken them away in the last chapter.

"Well, we need to set up auditions for a new Donald Weasley..."

"No, we need some adventure, some challenge – something!  I can't be the hero of the story if I don't have something...heroish to do."

"But I don't have time to waste this year adventuring."

"Don't worry, the climax _always_ comes after final exams are safely out the way."

"Well, since you put it that way."  Hermione rubbed her chin.  "Let's investigate what a wizard wears under his robes."

Harry smirked.  "I already know that one."

Neville, who was sitting a few seats down and listening in on the conversation, suddenly sat up straight and blushed.

"Let's investigate why Snape's hair is always so greasy," Harry suggested.  "But then again, I'm not sure I want to know.  Besides, I'm going to be busy bonding with him, since he's my father now, and I wouldn't want to upset him."

Hermione snorted.  "Since when?"

Dumbledore suddenly stood up from his seat in the middle of the staff table.  He was wearing orange knickers and a pink feather boa, and not much else.  His beard had rainbow colored beads braided into it.  "Children!  Professors!  Inanimate objects!"  

"'bout time we got some recognition," the fork whispered to the spoon, who giggled with delight.

"As you may have noticed, there has been a foul odor pervading the halls of Hogwarts!"

"I _have_ noticed that," Hermione said, "but I thought Neville had used the bathroom in his pants again."

"Hey!" Neville sputtered angrily.  "I haven't done that since my fourth year!"

"It is beyond my abilities to stop this foul, this wretched, this horrid smell..."  He put a hand up to his forehead and suddenly looked every one of his two hundred and forty seven years.  Or he just looked faint.  "I will award a special award for special people who are awarded with special awards and name this story after whichever character can trace the odor to its origin and stop it!"

Harry was on his feet in an instant.  "But the story's named after me.  It always is.  You can't have a book in a Harry Potter series without Harry Potter."

Dumbledore looked grave.  He reached around to the back of his head and opened the control panel on his neck.  He flipped the Twinkle switch to Off and the fire in his sparkling pupils died.  "I'm afraid the reader's ratings have left you behind.  You're no longer the favorite character."

"That's Daniel Radcliffe's fault.  I'm much cuter in real life!  Er, that is, in fiction."

"I'm afraid not, my child.  The readers are sick of your angsty teenage-mongering.  So!"  He addressed the entire hall again.  "Whoever finds the origin of this _odious odor_ will win their house 1,294 points, and will be featured on the front cover of _The Daily Potter_.  And, of course, the next book will be named after them."  He flipped his Twinkle switch back on and sat down merrily to a breakfast of baloney.

"You know what this means?" Harry said to Hermione, leaning forward intently.

"I should find out the mystery on my own and then have the book named after me and rip your body open with a knife if you try, once again, to steal the fame that I deserve?" Hermione asked.

"No."

"What then?"

"We should figure this out.  Together.  I'll be the spokesperson and take all the credit."

"Great, I'll be the typical subservient female and do the brunt of the research and organizational aspects of the adventure," Hermione offered.

"Hey, I'll come along to fill in Don's missing spot," Ginny offered.

"What can you do for us?" Hermione asked, giving Ginny an application form to fill out.

"Well, I've been practicing all summer and I've finally perfected the art of standing around and looking stupid."  She made her face completely blank and stared at Hermione.  A few micro expressions of confusions passed over her, but she contained her bewildered expression.

"My, you have been practicing.  You have it down perfect!  But who will fill in your part?"

"Can I?" Neville asked.  They ignored him.

Ginny shrugged.  "I can do both for now."  She winked and reached out to pinch Hermione's butt.

Hermione squealed and jumped.  "What are you doing?"

Ginny looked hurt.  "Isn't that from cannon?  I'm Don now, remember?"

Hermione looked around conspiratorially and saw that only half the table was watching her.  "Meet me later," she whispered.  Ginny winked and hiked up her skirt past her knees.

"I'm leaving now," Harry announced loudly.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"So I can wander around by myself and have some angsty moments of self-doubt and then meet up with Malfoy to exchange tantalizingly suggestive derogatory comments."

"Alright, have fun then," Hermione said, turning back to her oatmeal.

*          *          *          *          *

Harry wandered through the hall, bemoaning his pitiful situation, when he suddenly turned the corner to find that Draco Mafloy had been placed there (quite conveniently) by the author.

"Hello Potty!" Malfoy said scathingly.  "Has your scar muddled your brain so much that you can't tell your way around any more?"

Harry looked around and suddenly noticed he had been transported far away from the Fat Hall.  Harry was silent.  Draco was silent.  "I think it's your line," Harry said suddenly.

Draco tilted his head, making his blond bangs fall sexily in his eyes.  "I thought so, but I couldn't remember how it started."

"Something about having a crush on me since the first time you saw me on Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, there's that.  But something led up to it."

"Aren't you supposed to dance?"

"No that's later.  Let's see, it's something, something, something... and then I say, 'Love is a many splendored thing, love lift us up where we belong! All you need is love!'  See, it's a bit disjointed."

Harry nodded.  "That's okay, go on."

"It's your turn."

"Wha-oh!"  He recited his lines calmly, in a slight falsetto.  "Please don't start that again."

Draco sang softly, "_All you need is love_..."

Harry fluffed his hair.  "A girl has got to eat."

"_All you need is love_..."

"She'll end up on the street."

"_All you need is loooo-ah-ove_!" Draco crooned.  Fangirls everywhere across the nation swooned and collapsed into a panting frenzy.

"Love is just a game," Harry said in a monotone.

"Poor boy," Neville murmured, who was watching the exchange anxiously from his hiding spot behind a flatulent suit of armor.

"_I was meant for loving you baby, you were meant for loving me!_"  Draco stopped singing for a second.  "Oh, how I long to see you everyday.  I can't even bear the ride to Hogwarts without seeking out your illustrious compartment and exchange verbal flirtations with you, my love!"

Harry sniffed.  "_The only way you're loving me baby, is if you pay a lovely fee_."

Draco's eyebrows rose as his hand went instantly into his pocket.  He started counting out galleons.  "_Just one night, give me just one night_!"

"_There's no way, 'cause you can't pay_..."  Harry was getting into the swing of things and singing in falsetto now.  

"But I can!" Draco shouted, shoving a fistful of galleons down the front of Harry's pants.

"Just go with the script," Harry said hotly.  "But do that again first.  It feels good.  Nice and cool."  

Draco gave him more money and continued singing.  "_In the name of love, one night in the name of love_..."

"_You crazy fool, I won't give into you_..."  Harry was eying Draco.  "Damn this script," he muttered.

"I feel you, man, I so feel you," Neville muttered, covering his nose from the most recent bout of flatulence expelled from the armor into his face.

Draco and Harry held hands and gazed longingly into each other's eyes.  Green met gray.  Draco sang, "_We could be heroes, just for one day_!"

"You..."  He waited for the music.  "You will be mean."

"No, I won't!"

"And I..."  He waited again.  "I'll drink all the time."

Draco had had enough.  He belted out, full vibrato, "_We should be lovers_!"

"We can't do that," Harry half-sang.

"_We should be loo-ah-oovers_!  _And that's a fact_!"

_"Though nothing will keep us together_..."

"Blah, blah, blah..._Just because I will always love you_..."

"_I can't help loving_..."

"_You_..."

Draco smiled and pulled Harry closer.  "_How wonderful life is_..."

They sang together, melting in each other's eyes.  "_Now you're in the world_!"  They continued to melt into a pile of slush on the floor.

McGonagall turned the corner and saw Draco embracing Harry.  "No!" she shouted.  She tore off her wig and clothes, showing that she was actually Alan Rickman, cast as the wrong part, and jumped out the window in despair.  He shouted as he fell "I always loved you Dra-"  His shout was cut short when his brains splattered all over Dumbledore's new Convertible, which was parked several floors below.  Draco and Harry continued to fondle each other.  They slowly melted, like wax, until there was nothing left on the floor but a green and maroon and black and some other-colored puddle.

"Ah, ha!" Neville exclaimed, jumping out from his hiding place.  He grabbed Harry's robe from the melted Harry on the floor and put it on.  A few button popped at the waist, and the arms tore off, but he managed to squeeze into it.  "I'm now Harry Potter!"  He took out a knife and pressed it into his head to give himself the characteristic lightening bolt scar.  Unfortunately, it went in too far and got stuck.  "Damn this scar," he said, trying to make his voice as whiny as Harry's.  He grinned and made his way to his first class.

Potions.

*          *          *          *

[That's all folks-]

"You can't cut the chapter short!" Hermione shouted from her seat in the front row of Potions class.

[But I don't feel like writing anymore.]

"You're just cheating the audience and yourself.  Besides, I want a chance to show off how smart I am for reading and memorizing all the books during the first week of summer vacation."

[Fine, fine...but make it quick.]

Snape entered the classroom, his robes billowing bat-like behind him.   He noted that the Dream Team was sitting in the front row, and that Draco was liquefied and had to be carried around in a jar.  In fact, the Dream Team looked slightly off, too.  Hermione had breasts, which was strange enough, but Don was a bit too feminine (and was beginning to turn Snape on, but maybe it was just the tight skirt the boy was wearing), and Harry was suddenly fat and had cut off all his hair and dyed it light brown, and there was a knife sticking out his forehead.  It was probably a contrived plea for attention.  "Kids these days," he chuckled to himself as he stood facing away from the class, getting into character.

He turned once he had pasted the traditional snarl on his face.  "Today we will be brewing a difficult potion by the name of Doo-doo-Poo-poo."

"Professor!  Professor!" Hermione said frantically, waving her hand in the air.

"I don't believe I asked for you to grace the class with the pleasure of your knowledge, whore," Snape snapped.

"What did you call me?" asked a flabbergasted Hermione.

"Nothing," Snape said quickly.  "Continue on."

"Redundant," muttered Hermione.  "Anyway, I think the correct pronunciation is Doudieau-Poughpeau."

Snape glared at her.  She glared back.  He glared back at her.  She glared in return.  Ginny hiked up her skirt higher and both Hermione and Snape turned their attention elsewhere.  "You were saying, Professor?" asked a breathless Hermione.

"Oh, yes," he said.  He reached up to straighten his tie, only to realize he didn't wear one.  But his robes were still rather black and sexy, he noted with pleasure.  "The potion will cause the drinker to reveal their _true feelings_!  It will cause them to tell the class what they really want to be doing in life."  Evil sounding music played in the background.

"Easy enough for me to figure out," muttered Goyle, as he turned back to the poem he was writing.  "Hey, Pansy, what rhymes with foliation?"

"Elimination?" she suggested.

"He's going to make me drink, I just know he's going to make me drink," Neville said anxiously under his breath.  So far no one had noticed that there was a knife sticking out of his forehead.  Maybe they were used to such antics with Harry.

They brewed the potion.  Nothing exciting happened.

When they were almost done, Snape carefully explained the procedure for bottling the potion.  "You must stir it twice to the left, twice to the right, shake it baby, shake it, and then bottle it according to PLA, that is to say, Potions Lab Associates, standard procedures.  If you accidentally stir it to the right before stirring to the left, then it may blow up and cover the face of whoever is standing next to you, just as I am currently standing in close proximity to Mr. Potter.  Were he to stir it to the right first, it would surely blow up in my face and I would end up embarrassing myself while amusing the class by admitting my true feelings about life.  But fortunately, Mr. Potter is smart enough to stir the correct way, which is – which way, Mr. Potter?"

Neville jumped when he realized that Snape had been talking to him.  Man, I need to get fully in character here, he chided himself.  He tried to guess, "Left?"

"Right!" Snape exclaimed, thoroughly annoyed that he hadn't been able to take off points for his hated-student-enemy-just-recently-turned-son's ignorance.

Poor Neville, thinking Snape was instructing him instead of congratulating him, promptly stirred the potion to the right first, causing it to blow up and hit the Potions Master in the face.

"Ahhh!" Snape screamed, grabbing at his eyes.  "Next I'm going to be eviscerated by a dinosaur during a rainstorm!"

"Wrong movie, dude," Dean corrected him.

Snape straightened and wiped the goo out of his eyes.  "In that case, I'm going to..."  His eyes suddenly lit up.  "...dance!"  In one smooth motion, he ripped off his clothes and stripped down to the hot pink thong he was wearing underneath.  He started belly-dancing as Seamus rubbed glittery oil on his muscular body.  The class cheered and threw a couple knuts and the occasional galleon at him.  "Let's dance, kids!"
    
    He sang:
    
    _To the beat of the rhythm of the night _
    
    _Dance until the morning light_
    
    _Forget about the worries on your mind_
    
    _We can leave them all behind_
    
    _To the beat of the rhythm of the night.._
    
    _Oh the rhythm of the night...we can leave them all behind..._
    
    _Oh rhythm... wanna feel the rhythm    _
    
    A group of fat ladies in brightly colored dresses burst through the doorway and started doing the can-can.  One of them stood on a desk while hiking up her skirt to reveal her voluminous underpanties and sang:
    
    _Where's__ all my souls sisters?_
    
    _Let me hear y'all flow sisters_
    
    _Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, flow sister_
    
    _Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, flow sister_
    
    Ginny jumped onto the desk next to her and joined in:
    
    _Gitchie__, gitchie, ya ya da da _
    
    _Gitchie__, gitchie, ya ya here _
    
    _Mocha Chocolata ya ya_
    
    _Creole Lady Marmalade_
    
    Hermione stood up.  "Listen, this isn't a Moulin Rouge fanfic, this is a Harry Potter fanfic."
    
    "Yeah," Neville said, disappointed that the plot wasn't centering on him like he thought it would once he had adopted Harry's persona.  "In fact, this whole chapter sucks.  Let's just start over again tomorrow, shall we?"
    
    The students groaned in disappointment.  The fat ladies started to leave and the students dancing half-naked with Snape started to disperse and put back on their clothes.  
    
    "Okay, you can end the chapter now," Hermione advised.  "This whole story is going downhill."  Her breasts grew two more inches.  "No, I meant to say I love this story!"  Her chest shrank.  She breathed a sigh of relief.
    
    "Going downhill?  I thought it started there," muttered a third year Hufflepuff who was hiding in a cabinet in the back of the classroom.  She was promptly eaten by a boggart.
    
    They left the Potions classroom, Snape with a lot of tips and the students with a mind-boggling dread in their hearts of what the next chapter would bring...
    
    *             *             *             *             
    
    [A/N: My, my, that wasn't _too_ bad...
    
    Thanks to everyone who reviewed.  I've decided not to write another chapter until I receive 1,294 reviews.]
    
    "Yes, no more chapters!" Hermione cheered.
    
    [Okay, I changed my mind.]
    
    "But it was a good way to make fun of authors who say they won't write more until people review ten times," Hermione noted.
    
    [Why thank you.]
    
    Hermione's breasts shrunk until they were almost normal size.  
    
    "Do you have an obsession with breasts?" Neville asked, annoyed that he still wasn't the center of attention.  Neville promptly grew breasts.  Unfortunately, he was so fat that they just disappeared into his flubber.  He smirked and, with a bark, scampered down the corridor on all fours.
    
    [And thus the chapter ended. 
    
    Thank Merlin!]


End file.
